


Was it you or me Or the mess we made

by keyt_scrat



Category: Eurovision Song Contest RPF, Festival di Sanremo RPF
Genre: Alcohol, M/M, Pining, Sexy Times
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-10
Updated: 2018-07-10
Packaged: 2019-06-08 13:21:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15244293
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/keyt_scrat/pseuds/keyt_scrat
Summary: this is so sad alexa play io mi innamoro ancoraa one-time thing in lisbon





	Was it you or me Or the mess we made

In Ermal’s mind their relationship has an expiration date and it’s somewhere in early May. Everything that they’re doing - from deciding to work together (“I think this would work better if it was just the two of us”, says Ermal looking up at Fabri through his eyelashes and he does think it would be better for the song but there is maybe an ulterior motive. “I think so too”, smiles Fabrizio and Ermal feels warm all over, wants to blush like a schoolgirl, wants be as smug as possible, drunk with ‘he chose me and he sees me and he wants me’) to writing the song (Ermal always writes from a place of passion and edits from a place of calm and Fabrizio is the same, they feel the music on their fingertips, they feel the lyrics in their throats), to performing at Sanremo (Ermal relishes in careless teasing, insulting Fabri from his hats to his boots, knowing full well that there’s no hard feelings, that after the interviews are done Fabrizio is the one roasting him for every stupid thing he said) is coming towards one goal and it’s somewhere in early May. 

In Ermal’s mind their relationship has an expiration date and he is both relieved and devastated. Adjusting to Fabrizio is a lot of work for him because Fabrizio doesn’t do things casually. He falls head first and he has a calm secure energy that Ermal wishes he could have (or successfully fake) and the worst thing is - he makes Ermal trust him. Ermal thinks forward - to June, to August, he has a tour planned and he invited Fabrizio but doesn’t know if he will show up and he is both relieved and devastated. Fabrizio warmed his way into his heart, with careful touches, with understanding of his weird social boundaries and Ermal trusts him completely and he thinks that it’s going to be his downfall. Ermal doesn’t trust people easily, they fucked him over way too many times, he either keeps them on a polite distance or puts them through hell just to see if they would stay. It seems masochistic of him, it seems manipulative but that’s the only way he can be sure that they would stay and Fabrizio stays. He stays through his flinching at sudden moves, through weeks of non-communicating, through his anxious outbursts and he’s still so calm and sure and he carves himself a place somewhere in Ermal’s chest so Ermal trusts him but it’s all fruitless because their relationship has an expiration date somewhere in early May. 

Pre-Eurovision time is weird for both of them. They both have concerts to perform to but there is an underlying pressure whispering in their ears - you’re not done, just one more thing and you are free. They have decided, early on, that they’re not going to care about the results - no one in Italy does anyway, so Fabri’s biggest concern is his English. He texts Ermal at eerie morning hours asking him to translate something to English (“I didn’t know you learned how to use technology, old man! Maybe one day you’re going to figure out how to log into your twitter profile!”), their conversations lasting long into afternoon, with random pictures here and there and general whining about the world. Ermal’s biggest concern on the other hand is getting his shit together, trying to think about his feelings as little as possible and not over-analyzing every single thing Fabrizio says. 

Their meeting in Lisbon starts Ermal’s mental countdown. They have a week - a week of walking on scolding Portuguese pavements, sightseeing but not actually seeing much, always watching Fabrizio out of the corner of his eye. Seven days of complete exhaustion, of 2 am conversations with people from all around the world, people who are as passionate as he is but always checking on Fabrizio, translating for him, whispering half cut Italian phrases in his ear, accidentally mixing it with English. One hundred and sixty eight hours of disgusting hotel coffee and cigarettes they are technically not allowed but who cares if Ermal’s world ends in 604800 seconds so he’s allowed to smoke however much he likes on their balcony, with a shitty view and creaky chairs, Fabrizio stroking his ever-present guitar somewhere in the background, a glass of red wine next to him, all soft tired smiles and hair that keeps getting in his eyes.

The day before the finale Ermal decides to do something. He has never been great at differentiating between love and friendship, can’t even imagine one without the other but Fabrizio drives him wild with curiosity. Sure, he hugs him and his hugs linger but he does that with everyone. He kisses him on the cheeks in front of the cameras and on the spot where his jaw meets his neck in private but he does that with everyone. He runs his fingers through his hair, he wraps himself around him, he pushes his toes under his thigh when they are sitting on the couch, he whispers goodnight into his neck when they go to sleep but he probably does that with everyone. He broke Ermal’s mental walls and earned his trust so much that Ermal does the same without thinking - it comes to him instinctively - patting his legs, stroking his cheekbones, running on the stage, hand in hand, without a care in the world. Fabrizio probably does that with everyone. Ermal doesn’t.

It’s the night before Eurovision finale (technically the morning of) and they are on the balcony and Ermal is drunk on three different kinds of wine that people keep gifting them and they exchanged the squeaky chairs for the warm wooden floor and a blanket and their legs are intertwined and Fabrizio’s foot keeps going up his ankle and Fabrizio’s head is on his shoulder and he smells like sweat and the sun and a truly horrendous mix of perfumes and Ermal is overwhelmed. 

“Are you nervous for tomorrow?” he asks, toying with another glass of wine.

Fabrizio lifts his head off his shoulder and stares into the distance.

“Not really. Is it bad that I don’t care much?”

Ermal laughs, too loudly, the way he laughs at everything Fabrizio says.

“That’s okay. I feel the same. I think I got everything I’ve ever wanted when we won Sanremo. This is just. Nice”

“You should have won last year” says Fabrizio, his gaze is warm and dark and Ermal almost chokes on his wine. 

“I really shouldn’t have. Wouldn’t have met you if I had won.”

Fabrizio looks him over, bites his lip and Ermal shivers.

“That’s not true. You would have gone to be this great international star and I would be running after you like a lost puppy, with my dumb song idea. Isn’t that a thought?”

They are both quiet for a moment, contemplating this version of the past. 

“Well, what did they say about us? That we are predestined to be together?” says Ermal with a small chuckle, just to show how ridiculous he finds this idea. But Fabrizio isn’t smiling; he’s looking at him with that dark determination in his eyes, his fingers drawing patterns on Ermal’s shoulder, burning through all three layers of clothing, the air between them suddenly heavy and charged.

Ermal looks away, all his false confidence suddenly gone. He feels like he’s missing something, he feels like all these times at university when pretty girls would ask if he wanted to get a coffee with them and he would say he just had some.  
“Aren’t we?” asks Fabrizio, his voice quiet and soft and a little bit hoarse. 

Ermal looks away, has to look away, then looks back at Fabrizio, his shirt is not even buttoned up, his hair a mess, his eyes dark and wanting.  
Ermal looks at Fabri’s shoulder, then down, back at his eyes then down again. He wants to say something but he can’t so he’s just looking over the balcony, the wine stains on the floor, a thread hanging from Fabri’s sleeve. Fabrizio sighs heavily, leans forward and kisses him. And Ermal kisses him right back.  
Looking back at it, he was surprised that Fabrizio understood that he had to do that first step, but he also was surprised at his reciprocation. He just wanted an answer, he had a theory to prove, he was tired of them dancing on that friendship-love line but he had never actually envisioned them going so far past the line.

The kiss goes from soft and almost shy to dirty in a matter of seconds, Ermal’s nails scraping Fabri’s chest, Fabri’s hands getting tangled in his hair, tugging on the soft strands which earns him a moan from Ermal and a careful bite on a lip. When they come up for air it’s erratic and life changing. Fabrizio looks over him, in a way that almost makes Ermal giggle, in a way that almost makes Ermal want to tear off his stupid shirt and lick over his tattoos.

They move to the bed and it’s not graceful in any way, Fabrizio complains about all the layers Ermal has on, taking off his shirt so quickly that the buttons fly off and Ermal loudly considers walking away. He covers with kisses every piece of his skin that he uncovers, until Ermal claims that he’s not getting any younger and would like to live out the rest of his youth someplace other than this hotel bed (lie, utter lie) so Fabrizio comes up to kiss his lips, turning soft and almost romantic again. Ermal finally takes off Fabrizio’s (useless really) shirt and runs his hands all over his back, all warm skin and shivers running under his fingers. 

Later, Fabrizio keeps asking if he’s okay which Ermal doesn’t even want to dignify with a response until he sees his anxious expression.  
Later, when Ermal looks up at Fabri, whose hair is plastered with sweat on his forehead, he commits this picture in his memory, for the lone evenings.  
Later, when Fabrizio is asleep, Ermal kisses his hair and his fingers go over the tattoos on his arms and back.

In the morning Ermal goes to the last rehearsal while Fabrizio’s asleep and them wanders aimlessly through the streets of Lisbon, afraid of coming back. He’s glad that their relationship has an expiration date and that it’s today. He feels like he proved a point, he thought that there was an attraction and he was right. So what if it was a one time thing? So what if he doesn’t want it to be? They’re both public figures, he just ended his relationship with Silvia, and he’s not even going to get into the mess that is Fabrizio’s love life, with his almost wife and a family that has no place in it for Ermal. They got it out of their systems and now they can move on.

Ermal pointedly doesn’t talk about it and after a few awkward tries Fabrizio doesn’t either. They go back to Italy on different planes and Ermal’s phone doesn’t light up at 2am with random messages from Fabri anymore.

They still see each other. They see each other in Rome, in Milan, in Genoa. Fabrizio still talks about him as if he’s the most important person in his life right now, Ermal mentions Fabrizio in every interview even if it’s completely out of place. It seems that they can’t move on no matter how Ermal had envisioned it in early May. Fabrizio says that Ermal is going to be the first person to hear his new album and Ermal feels the tips of his ears burning. 

He wants to scream - this relationship had an expiration date and we’re way past that.

He wants to shout - why can’t you leave me alone I thought that I could move on.

He wants to whisper in the corner of Fabrizio’s mouth - of course I’ll write more songs with you, you beautiful ridiculous bastard, please never leave me alone.

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. it's not as explicit as some people wanted because contrary to the popular belief i do not want ermal to drop kick me in the face  
> 2\. as always please send anon hate or long homosexual love letters on twitter (@heterorussia) or tumblr (sapphicrussia)  
> 3\. I wrote it completely delusional after a full work day so y'know... it's not great  
> 4\. the title is from Mika's Feels Like Love, we love sad curly foreigners in Italy


End file.
